


storge

by jackstanifold



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, DadSchlatt, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Jschlatt Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Relationships, Suicidal Thoughts, and they were ROOMMATES, dadboyhalo, like they deadass got married no homo, quackity and Schlatt are roommates and co-fathers, techno is a babysitter because i think it's funny, xisuma is mentioned because im a simp xoxoxo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackstanifold/pseuds/jackstanifold
Summary: Storge: Familial love. It refers to a natural or instinctual affection, such as the love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Charles | Grian & Xisumavoid, Darryl Noveschosch & Technoblade, Darryl Noveschosch & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Zak Ahmed & Technoblade
Comments: 106
Kudos: 377





	1. To Fall in Love

**Author's Note:**

> i am well aware my ongoing fic is well overdue for an update, but have you considered: no <3
> 
> have some dadschlatt.

J. P. Schlatt was many things, and a father wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t made for it. He didn’t like kids, or being in charge of fragile things, or spending his money on other people. He was never supposed to be a dad.

So when his ex-girlfriend decided to drop off a baby, saying it was his, and he was supposed to take care of it, supposed to feed it, and raise it, he hated it immediately.

He hated the kid. It was silent, but that was somehow worse than if it was crying. Weren’t they supposed to cry? He stared down at it, and it stared back, then it reached up, and grabbed his horn, and yanked. 

He hated the kid. He didn’t know the kid’s name, even though it’s mom had told him. He didn’t think it mattered though, he refused to call it anything but kid for a long time. He called it kid, and the baby, and little fucker. 

He hated the kid, who woke him up with crying at two in the morning, and he had to get up and go to it, and rub it’s back, and give it some milk. The kid was tiny, and easy to hold, but he still hated the way it moved, the way it smelled, the sounds it made.

He didn’t tell his friends. Sometimes, Charlie would ask where he’d been, or Carson would make a joke about him having died, or Ted would try to invite him to hang out, but he would shrug, toss a joke out, and wave it off.

He never would’ve told them, letting them draw their own conclusions, but then the kid stopped eating. He was worried, balancing the kid in his arms and feeling it’s ribs through the onesie. It wasn’t until the kid started throwing up one night that he finally called the first person in his contacts alphabetically and prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in that they’d be able to help.

In Alex’s credit, he came over immediately and didn’t say anything about the kid, didn’t ask where it came from, or how long he’d been living with it. He just looked at it for a bit before turning to Schlatt, eyes deadly serious. “Dude, your kid is sick as fuck.”

They got him to the hospital, who looked more than a little concerned when they explained the situation. Apparently, it was an easy fix, and they prescribed the kid medicine, and they asked for it’s name, and Schlatt had to admit he didn’t know.

Alex stared at him, face slack in disbelief. “Schlatt. You can’t just… not know your kid’s name.” 

But he didn’t. He gave the lady the kid’s mom’s name, and she looked through records and determined the kid’s name was Tubbo. He thought that was such a dumb name, but it suited the kid, somehow.

Alex helped take care of the kid. It was weird, having someone there to help him, to listen to him, and put up with him. They’d been friends before, of course, having gone to high school together, the bird hybrid selling Schlatt vapes and weed, and they still hung out sometimes, but they’d never really talked. 

He found out that Alex was from El Rapids, a tiny little town that was barely more than a Walmart and a mattress store, but he was going to college in L’Manburg. He liked pizza, and shitty rom coms, and he swore even more than Schlatt did. He couldn’t fly with his tiny little duck wings, and when he wore his retainer, he lisped. He was passionate, and impulsive, and his laugh was the single most annoying thing Schlatt had ever heard.

In return, Schlatt told him things about him. His name was Jebediah, he was raised Catholic, he drank way too much, and he hadn’t talked to his parents in years. He hated everyone, including himself, and he thought that jokes were funnier when you leave the punchline off. He hated people touching him, and he had a habit of tying things to his horns. He was stubborn, and rude, and he spoke Spanish concerningly well, although his accent was off.

Eventually Alex moved into the shitty little apartment, sleeping on the couch. He offered to help pay rent, but Schlatt waved him off, muttering something about college students being poor, anyways. He still insisted on paying for his own groceries, and helping pay for Tubbo’s meds.

They were sitting in the kitchen, around the table, Schlatt trying to get Tubbo to eat his formula while Alex laughed at him, when the boy suddenly gurgled and grinned. “Dada! Dada, dada, dadada!”

The men froze, staring at him, as he continued babbling. “Uh… Schlatt? I think… I think he just called you dada.”

“Dada!”

Shit was disgustingly domestic for a while. Tubbo would call him Dada and toddle after him, and Alex would call him a dork and make cheap coffee for him in the mornings. He had never really been close to his family, growing up in a suffocatingly religious environment that he wanted nothing more than to escape, but vaguely, he wondered if this is what it was supposed to feel like, to be loved, to be cared for.

As a kid, as a hybrid, he had always hated people pointing out his horns, his slit pupils, his dark hoove-like nails. He hated nicknames based on it, people calling him goatman or ramboy making him want to rip the curly monstrosities off his head and hide. So when Tubbo started calling Alex ‘Quackity’, he was half prepared to lunge to the kid’s defense. 

Alex almost started crying, but it wasn’t tears of anger, or of memories of cruel words and cruel hands, it was tears of joy.

Afterwards, Schlatt asked him if he minded, and Alex shook his head, a confused look on his face. “No? Why would I? He knows ducks say quack, and therefore I’m Quackity.”

Schlatt scowled. “You’re not a duck, though.”

Alex peered at him, eyes narrowing. “Mmm, no, I’m not. But I am a duck hybrid. Honestly, I’m pretty impressed he remembers, and not calling me a chicken or some shi-crap. I don’t think I’d be able to live down being called Tweety.”

Tubbo was growing a lot, his hair darkening from the blond it had been to a soft brown, his big blue eyes glittering with curiosity as he toddled around after his dad, and… whatever Alex was to him. A friend? An uncle? Another dad?

They needed a babysitter. Alex had been doing his classes online for nearly a whole year, but he needed to get back to the classroom, his ADHD making it impossible to focus with a baby in the house. Schlatt’s job was entirely online, simply making charts, and sending emails, and trying to pretend he knew what he was doing, but then the heating broke and he needed to find somewhere warmer to stay during the day.

There was a cafe nearby, The Badlands Coffee and Baked Goods, but he couldn’t just leave Tubbo at home, couldn’t just abandon him in the freezing apartment, so he took him with. 

The owner, Bad, was a hulking demon hybrid, with pitch black skin and dark red tattoos, and horns that nearly touched the ceiling when he stood straight. The kid took one look at him and smiled so wide he thought his face was going to split in half. Bad let Tubbo mess around behind the counter while his dad worked, keeping an eye on him for the ram hybrid. 

Schlatt felt himself relax for the first time in a while. The cafe was small, with only five employees, but it was homely, safe. Especially since the employees were so nice.

Puffy was a sheep hybrid, with long, curly white hair that Tubbo liked to stick things in. She wouldn’t complain or argue, just leaning down so he could reach better, before going back to talking to his father about her son, a kid named Dream, who was apparently a few years older than Tubbo. 

Sam was a creeper hybrid who let Tubbo sit on his back every time he got a break. He was awkward, and obviously not a fan of talking to people, but he liked the toddler, and let him mess around with his little redstone contraptions, and gave him cookies. Schlatt liked him, although they never really talked. 

Anthony was a cat hybrid who usually stayed in back, in case guests had allergies, but he sometimes poked his head out to smile at Tubbo. At some point, Tubbo decided to call him Ant, which the man accepted whole-heartedly. Unfortunately, they found out pretty quickly that the boy was allergic, his eyes watering and swelling whenever they interacted up close, but he still beamed at Ant any time they saw each other. 

Skeppy, Bad's partner, was a diamond golem, his transparent body casting light across the room in millions of fractals to dance over the cafe. He was odd, his voice reminding Schlatt of his old friends, his laugh getting on his nerves, but he let Tubbo sit on the counter and told jokes that were almost funny, so the ram let it go.

Bad was, of course, the owner, and Tubbo’s favorite. He was nice, and let the boy play with his claws and tail as he and Schlatt talked. Schlatt mentioned that he and Quackity were having trouble keeping an eye on the boy while still going about their daily lives.

“Hmmm.” Bad’s tattoos shimmered a bit as he thought, his eyes drifting over to Skeppy who was bouncing the toddler in his arms while changing the menu. “When Skeppy and I first adopted Sapnap, he was kinda a handful… hmmm…”

“‘Hm’ what? What’s your genius fucking idea?” Schlatt raised an eyebrow at the demon, who scowled at the interruption.

“Language. Anyway, I think I know someone who would be a perfect babysitter for Tubbo. He’s really nice, and great with kids… Yeah, it’ll be perfect! Then, when you can’t bring Tubbo here, you can call him!”

Schlatt scowled. “How much does he cost? I’m not paying a hundred bucks an hour or anything.”

Bad shook his head, smiling faintly at him. “Oh, it’s nowhere near that much. Besides, if you really need a discount, he owes me a favour…”

This was not what Schlatt was expecting from a babysitter. 

The man standing in the doorway was massive, taller than even Bad, with waist length pink hair. He wore a baggy red sweater and loose jeans, but they did nothing to hide the muscles that very obviously rippled across his chest and arms. He looked to be a pig hybrid, with soft pinkish ears and tusks that jutted out from his mouth. A pair of crimson eyes peered at Schlatt from behind little wire-frame glasses, and he gulped a bit.

“Hallo.” The man’s voice was deep, monotone. “Is this the Schlatt residence.”

Schlatt nodded, gesturing for the man to come in. “Yeah, uh. Technoblade Soot, right?” 

The man grunted in confirmation, and slipped his shoes off by the door. Tubbo was in the living room with Quackity, who paled significantly at the sight of the man, but Tubbo’s face lit up, and he immediately scrambled over to him. 

He grabbed the man’s leg and stared up at him with awe on his face. “Oink, oink.”

For a moment, Schlatt felt panic rise in his chest. If the man wanted, he could kick Tubbo, or step on him. If he decided to, it would be so easy to hurt the kid.

He didn’t. He just knelt down, stared Tubbo in the eye, and oinked. 

The toddler shrieked with laughter, smiling so brightly that Schlatt felt his heart melt all over again. Technoblade’s face didn’t change at all, even as Tubbo snorted back, tiny little voice not making even close to the right noise, but his eyes did sparkle a bit.

Techno came four times a week, for six hours at a time. He and Tubbo got along wonderfully, with Techno telling stories of world conquest which Schlatt only slightly disbelieved. Quackity was a lot more skittish around the man, squirming every time he showed up, his eyes going wide at the very sight of him, and he would disappear as soon as possible. 

At some point, he disclosed to Schlatt that he and Techno had gone to the same middle school, and apparently Techno had stabbed a kid one time. Schlatt was almost concerned, until he watched the way the man grinned at Tubbo, and he decided that his kid was safe.

Schlatt stopped drinking. He hadn’t actually gotten really drunk in years, but now he wouldn’t even touch the stuff. Not when he had Tubbo to look out for. 

He had been drinking to numb himself, to pretend he didn’t feel, to prepare himself for death. But now he wanted to feel.

He wanted to live.

Tubbo’s third birthday was a huge occasion. He bounced around the house, smiling at everyone, his eyes sparkling with so much happiness that Schlatt felt so bad for not getting him a present. But money was tight, and Bad, Sam, Puffy, Techno and Quackity had all told him they’d get stuff for the kid, so he relaxed a bit.

There were kids too. Bad and Puffy had both brought their sons, who were 6 and 8 respectively, and let him play with them. Sapnap was a mean little bastard, who looked to be a blaze spawn if the way he scorched the carpet meant anything. Dream looked human, for the most part, but his eyes were unnaturally green, and he had a couple horns peeking through his hair. He was a lot nicer than Sapnap, and gave Tubbo a little bee plushie. 

Schlatt watched the three run around, shoving cake into each other’s faces and laughing hysterically at nothing, and faintly, he thought, he never got this. 

He’d had a shit childhood, and he was determined to make sure Tubbo’s was better. He was going to keep him safe, and happy, and well fed, and loved. He would rather die than let this ray of sunshine grow into a bitter old man who drank as a hobby, and shoved away all his old friends, and hated the man he saw in the mirror.

Quackity graduated that spring, officially leaving college with a laugh and a middle finger in the air. Schlatt was scared that he was going to leave, move across the country, abandon him and never look back. He’d grown embarrassingly attached to the man, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he woke up one day and Quackity wasn’t passed out on the couch, still snoring his ass off.

Quackity didn’t leave. He didn’t even mention it, didn’t even suggest it, but Schlatt still expected him to bring it up at dinner, or while they went on one of their occasional walks. It wasn’t until the smaller man mentioned that the fridge was probably going to need replacement in a few years that some part of his mind decided to make the first move. 

“Yeah? And will you be here when we need to replace it?”

Quackity’s smile faded a bit, so much confusion in his eyes that Schlatt could hear the gears turning. “I mean… that’s like… five years from now?” The ram’s heart plummeted, until he continued. “I don’t really know what my schedule would be, but I’m assuming that I will be, I could call off a day from work if you need, or we could do it on a weekend? I don’t know, why?”

Schlatt stared blankly at him. “You’re not planning on moving out?’

Quackity’s smile was completely gone now, his expression the same it’d been nearly two years ago when he first got his nickname, confusion and concern twisting his features, along with a bit of suspicion, like he thought this might be a joke. “Uh… No. Why, do you want me to?”

Suddenly, Schlatt was crying, his entire body crumpling with sobs. Quackity panicked for a bit, before awkwardly trying to hug the much taller man, patting his back. Faintly, Schlatt thought the other guy was horrible at hugs, but he supposed he really wasn’t one to talk. They stood there on the sidewalk for a while, just existing, just being.

Schlatt wasn’t used to love. He grew up in a house that told him Jesus loved him more often than they told him they loved him. He never really had real friends in school, just his lunch table of goons and losers. He never really fell in love either, hooking up with girls when he got bored. He was so unused to love being shown casually.

Quackity had an abundance of love. He grew up in a happy home, that held parties for no reason, and he got gifts every birthday. He had great friends in high school, most of which he still talked to. He fell in love so easily, not even romantically, just in general. He showed his love the same way he showed his thoughts, with words, with gifts, with looks that meant so much more than he knew.

Tubbo had a lot of love, too. He was small, too small, but his eyes were bright and shone with something beautiful when he looked at his dads, and his hands sought Schlatt’s every chance he got, and he laughed at his horrible horrible jokes. 

One day, Schlatt woke up, and for the first time, he knew how it felt to fall in love. Not just with Tubbo, but with Quackity, and Bad, and Sam, and Puffy, and Ant, and Skeppy, and Techno, and their shitty little apartment, and the coffee at Badlands, and the obnoxious windchimes Quackity had insisted they buy, and the stupid peonies the next door neighbor had put on their balcony that made his nose itch, and the trashy lasagna that he’d burnt the night before, and his ugly-ass sweater that he’d been wearing as a night shirt because it was warm, and he cried.

He’d cried two times in the last two weeks, three times in his entire life. He almost missed feeling numb.

At some point, he and Quackity started sharing a bed. There was nothing sexual, or romantic, about it. It just made more sense than leaving Quackity on the couch every night. They weren’t dating. They weren’t in love, at least not romantically. They never really tried to define it, they just… were. And that’s all they really needed to be.

One day, Techno called in to say he’d gotten called in to babysit for another family, and asked if a playdate would work.

It did.

Tubbo was enamoured with the other boy, a noisy kid named Tommy, who ran around the apartment, shrieking about death and knives. Schlatt glanced at Techno, raising an eyebrow, but the man just huffed. 

“His dad’s actually my twin’s foster dad, so he’s sorta my little brother. If I could’ve left him at home, I woulda.”

Schlatt tried to hide the surprise on his face. He hadn’t realised that Techno had a twin, or that he’d been in the system. Or, at least, his twin was. He hesitated a bit, before speaking slowly. “You gotta take care of family…”

A pause, then, “Yeah.” 

The boys got along like fire and gasoline. Techno started bringing Tommy to hang out with Tubbo more and more, to Quackity’s delight. The man seemed to think Tommy was the funniest person alive, much to Schlatt’s mock distress. 

At some point, Tommy’s dad and brother came too, and the five adults sat back to watch the kids tumble about.

Phil Watson was a middle aged man with gorgeous falcon wings that shone in the light. Schlatt tried not to feel intimidated as he turned his crystal blue eyes to stare at him. Then the man smiled warmly, and Schlatt felt relief rock his body.

Techno’s twin, however, a tall, gangly man named Wilbur, was far less intimidating. He wore a massive yellow sweater that had to be a dozen sizes too big on him, and wore little round glasses that reminded Schlatt of that dumb Harry Potter movie Quackity’s friend Karl had tried to make him watch. Wilbur and Schlatt got along disastrously, insulting nicknames woven with pickup lines. 

He found out that Wilbur was a pig hybrid, like Techno, but it didn’t physically show up at all, whereas Tommy was probably either demon or raccoon, like his bio parents. He hadn’t put much thought into whether Tubbo was a hybrid. He didn’t get his horns until he was seven or eight, and he felt dread well up in his stomach as he remembered the first few days at school after they’d started to grow in, when the other kid gathered around him to sing ‘Little Bo Peep’, and talking about lamb stew.

L’Manburg was different, though. There were more hybrids here. It was safer. Right?

Tubbo was an early bloomer. He was only five when his horns started to come in, little bumps on his head that grew with every passing day. It hurt like hell, and Schlatt, Quackity and Techno took turns sitting with him, hugging him, muttering reassuring words in his ears, rocking him back and forth comfortingly. Tommy came over, just to sit next to him. Even Dream came over, the older boy sitting with Tubbo for hours, talking quietly about menial bullshit, his quiet voice sending Tubbo to sleep more often than not. Dream was a good kid, Schlatt decided.

Tommy and Tubbo started preschool that fall, and their families gathered in the school parking lot to wish them farewell.

“You’re going to do great things.” Phil said.

“If anyone’s mean to you, deck ‘em.” Schlatt said.

“It’s going to be awesome.” Quackity said.

“Don’t talk to girls, they’re mean.” Wilbur said.

“Bye.” Techno grunted.

Schlatt didn’t cry as he watched Tubbo walk into the building, really. He swears. Wilbur’s pictures were photoshopped. He didn’t shed a tear, he’s not a loser.

Quackity was borderline sobbing the entire ride home, and when they picked Tubbo up that afternoon, he hugged the boy like he hadn’t seen him in years.

Things were good. Quackity signed them both up for the Parent Club, to socialize, and introduced them as “Tubbo’s dads”, much to the obvious discomfort of the lady at the sign-up desk. Normally, Schlatt would’ve corrected him, but this time, he let it go, and just grinned back at him. 

Phil was there too, and excitedly introduced them to his friend Xisuma, a very tall bee hybrid who managed to be the scariest person Schlatt had ever met. He was nice, though, happily telling the other men stories about his son Grian, a round-faced dove hybrid, who was apparently in Dream’s grade. It was nice, sharing stories about their kids, and joking about life, and relaxing. Schlatt realized how domestic he’d gotten, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t annoyed, or disgusted, or disappointed. He just smiled a bit as Phil described the time that he watched Wilbur eat nearly a whole handful of sand.

One night, Tubbo had a nightmare. He wouldn’t say what it was, but the way he clutched at Schlatt and Quackity as he sobbed told them the gist of it. 

“It’s ok, kiddo. We’re not going anywhere.”

They replaced the fridge that year, a bit earlier than expected. Like Quackity had promised, he took the day off of work to be there while the repair men hauled it in. He leaned against Schlatt, his head on his shoulder and muttered “Told you I’m not going anywhere.”

Tubbo’s sixth birthday was a huge affair, with a snowball fight, and chocolate cake, and hot chocolate. So early before Christmas, a lot of families were out of town, but there were still enough kids to really make it fun. He only really hung out with three, though.

Tommy, of course, stuck by his side the entire time, his brand new devil tail whipping behind him as he laughed. There was an ender hybrid, a tall kid with nervous fingers named Ranboo. The third friend was human, as far as Schlatt could tell, a lanky boy with shaggy blond hair who introduced himself as Purpled.

Schlatt made the mistake of mentioning that he’d never had a birthday party to Phil, who’s eyes widened. “When’s your birthday?”

The younger man shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, September tenth?” 

The falcon hybrid cursed, scowling a bit. “We missed it. Next year, I’m throwing a party for you. The twins’ birthday is around then, too… oh, how old will you be turning, mate?”

Schlatt scratched his neck, squinting as he tried to remember. “Uhhh… twenty five? Twenty six?”

Phil chuckled. “Alright. It’ll be a lot of candles, but we can make it work.”

If you’d gone back seven years and told Schlatt that he’d be looking forward to spending his twenty-fifth birthday surrounded by parents of his son’s friends as they all cheered for him to blow out some candles, he would’ve called you choice words, idiot and dumbass among them.

Hell, he wouldn’t have believed that he’d live to twenty five. Since high school, he’d been determined to die young, whether by drinking himself to an early grave or throwing himself out a window, he’d go out before his twenty first birthday.

He wondered how things would’ve been different if Tubbo’d never shown up. If he’d still be there, if he and Quackity would’ve become close, if he would’ve ever even met Phil. The kid had shaken his world. He’d crawled in, stuck his hands in his pockets, smiled at Schlatt with that gap toothed smile, and now he was there for keeps.

As he help sweep up the confetti from the Watson’s back deck, he decided something about himself

J. P. Schlatt was many things, and a dad was one of them.


	2. Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a glimpse of life from techno's weary eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was titled "technosave" in google docs

He didn't like people, he decided. He didn't like the way they talked, the way they moved, the way they expected people to understand them. He hated how they lied and hurt and stole. In all honesty, there wasn't much he didn't dislike about them.

His parents kicked him and his twin brother out when they were young. He wasn't sure how old, but they weren't old enough to be alone. They probably shouldn't have survived for as long as they did. 

They were almost opposites. Wilbur knew people, knew how to get what he wanted. His voice was like honey, his eyes like pools of chocolate. When he asked people on the street for money, they gave it to him, faces drawn in worry.

He wasn't nearly as good at people as Wilbur. He could never read them right, could never understand their intentions. At some point, he'd decided that people were unnecessary and started pickpocketing. Skipping the middle man.

He was worried that Wilbur would be mad at him when he found out, but he wasn't. Sitting in their cardboard den, staring down at the pile of wallets that he had charmed out of people's pockets, the boy laughed harder than he had in a while.

"Teach me!"

He had tried. He really had, but Wilbur had never gotten the hang of it. He took over the charming, letting his brother do the stealing.

Together, they made enough money to buy food, and warm clothes, and survive. And they had each other, of course. That's what really mattered.

One day though, he got back from the pharmacy with some carefully pocketed snacks and Wilbur was gone.

There was no note, no sign of struggle. It looked like his brother'd just gotten up and walked away. 

He cried that night, clutching at Wilbur's hat, choking on snot and tears.

When he was around six years old, he decided he was going to go to school. It was deceptively easy to get in, he just had to walk in with the other kids. Sit in the back, keeping your head down. No one noticed him.

He'd known how to read, practicing on billboards and newspapers, but here, he learned things differently. It wasn't just shapes making letters, letters making sounds, sounds making words, words making sentences. Here, he read stories, the words weaving a curtain of magic.

He started going to the library. He couldn't check out the books, and in all honesty, he wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be there, but the librarians took one look at his small frame, his dirty face, and they decided to leave him. 

He found one book, a book about greek mythology, that he liked. The story of Odysseus, his conquests, his battles. He thought faintly that he wanted to do that. He wanted to sail around the world, helping people and saving the world. He wasn't sure if he wanted a wife though, it seemed like a lot of hassle.

When he was ten years old, he started to change. He didn't notice it at first, his lower jaw aching, his ears burning, his lower back cramping. It hurt, but just a bit. 

And then one day, he looked in the mirror of the gas station bathroom, and he didn't recognize himself. His dark brown hair still curled around his shoulders, his skin was still a sickly pale color, but now his ears were long, floppy, covered in light pink fuzz, and his lower teeth were growing up, out. 

He looked like a pig. 

He felt bile crawl up his throat at the thought. Figures, he had to be the only presenting hybrid in the family, and he had to be a pig. A dirty, smelly creature good for nothing but sniffing out truffles.

One day, someone in the hallway called him Porky, and he grabbed them by the neck and drove a pencil into their leg.

He stopped going to school.

Empire was a deceptively small town, despite the name, and it wasn't very nice to hybrids.

It had been three years since Wilbur had disappeared, and he'd decided he had nothing keeping him there.

So, he left. He walked on the side of the highway for a long time, his red hoodie pulled around him, the hood up to cover his ears. He carefully tucked his tusks under his upper lip.

Everything he owned was tucked in his ratty old backpack, and the slap of his sneakers against the pavement giving the situation an odd finality. 

He finally stumbled upon a sign that said "Welcome to L'Manburg, home of the infamous Hto Dog Van!" and he decided to stop for the night.

He only meant to stay for the night. He really did. But something about the town felt different than Empire. Maybe it was the maple trees that lined the roads, or the park benches that were so much more comfortable than the ones in his old town, or maybe it was the "Hto Dog Van" a small, ugly food truck with some of the greasiest hot dogs he'd ever had.

Or maybe it was the hybrids.

There were so many, casually walking through the street, walking in and out of shops, laughing and joking. They weren't treated like animals here. They were treated like people.

So he stayed. He snuck into the library basement, coming out during the night to read, and explore the dusty shelves. He followed this routine for nearly four years.

Then, one day, he decided to try and steal from the new coffee shop. He'd stolen food before, and they didn't exactly hide the cookies. All he had to do was sit at a table and wait for the tired, overworked employee to go into the back, and then he just had to reach around and grab food, maybe some money from the tip jar.

His opportunity came, and he immediately darted forward, filling his pockets with muffins and pastries, cursing under his breath as he felt them crumble. He shoved a sugar cookie in his mouth for good measure, and turned to escape, just in time for the employee to step out of the back. 

There was a pause, as the two stared at each other, then he lunged for the door, but the employee moved faster, and cut him off. Immediately, he doubled back, ragged old sneakers slipping on the floor as he turned, sprinting towards the back. The man ran after him, shouting something that he couldn't hear over the rushing in his ears.

He scrambled through the kitchen, knocking over shelves behind him and jumping over counters as he ran to the back door. He slammed it open and-

A hand grasped his shoulder, sending him whirling into the brick wall of the alley. He shrank down, trying to make himself as small as possible, mind racing as he tried to think of an escape.

If the man turned him into the police, he'd never get out. They'd put him in the foster system, or even worse, send him back to his parents. He wasn't good at this, getting caught. He was never charismatic, he was never able to talk his way out of anything. 

Suddenly, there was something on him, on his arm, and he scrambled back, letting out a panicked squeal. His own pig-like noise hurt his ears, and he slammed his hands over them. He curled up against the wall.

For a long time, nearly half an hour, all he could hear was his own breathing, his own heart, his own desperate grunting noises. He rocked back and forth, hoof-like fingers digging into his temples, his eyes squeezed shut.

He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, maybe the snap of cold metal handcuffs, or the shouting of police officers, or the whine of sirens. 

He got none of those. Instead, he got the wurr of the air-conditioning unit set in the wall by his head, the usual sounds of traffic, and someone singing.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey."

It was the man. The employee from the coffee shop. His voice was terrible, nasally and creaky, but for some reason, it made him feel calmer. Relaxed, almost.

The man sitting across from was obviously a hybrid. He wasn't sure what kind of hybrid, but he had to be around eight feet tall, his skin was ashy black, his eyes a blank white, and red tattoos wound up his arms. A pair of black onyx horns sprouted from his forehead, and a long black tail that ended in a puff of… fur? hair?

The man saw him staring and stopped singing to smile comfortingly at him. "Hi."

He grunted a bit in acknowledgement, eyes narrowing a bit. The man didn't seem concerned, just smiling at him.

"My name is Bad. I'm not going to hurt you."

He glared, trying to appear intimidating. The man, Bad, looked utterly unphased, and stood, gesturing for him to follow him inside.

He considered disobeying, sprinting to the street, hiding in the library until the man forgot, but he didn't. He was curious, and in all honesty, if the man wanted to catch up to him, he could.

So he followed Bad inside. 

Bad talked while he worked, bustling around the kitchen, setting shelves upright, and replacing pots on their hooks. He rambled about someone called Skeppy, who was living with him, and had spilled fruit punch all over the kitchen and called it lava. He laughed occasionally, and the boy had nothing better to do but stare.

Bad handed him a cup of hot chocolate and a muffin, and he stared.

"So… What about you? What's your name? How old are you?"

His eyes flew up to the man, his mind churning. There was no way he was going to tell this stranger his real name. So he said the first thing that came to mind, a stupid nickname Wilbur had made in grade school. 

"Technoblade. Fourteen." He hadn't spoken in a while, and he knew his pronunciation was weird, rounding his 'o's too much.

Bad didn't bat his eyes, just smiling kindly at him. "Oh, that's such a nice name!" 

Bad offered him a place to stay for the night, and a hot shower. He wasn't sure what to say, his eyes searching the man's face, but he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't good at reading people, and he definitely wasn't good at denying people. 

He felt his head nod, but he really had nothing to say. He wasn't doing this because he thought it was a good idea, he was doing this because he had no ability to say no. Bad looked ecstatic, clapping his hands excitedly.

In the four months Technoblade lived with Bad and his husband Skeppy, he learned things. 

For one thing, Bad dealt in IOUs. Not really, but every time Techno brought up paying him back, he'd smile and say that the boy owed him one. He even wrote a 'contract', a simple sheet of paper that just said 'I, Technoblade, owe Bad B. Halo one (1) favour, gift, or something.' There was a spot for them to sign below. Techno had never actually written his name before then, he realized dumbly.

Two, Bad was a demon hybrid, something that Techno hadn't even realized existed. His husband Skeppy, on the other hand, was a diamond golem, with patches of diamond skin. The two were almost opposites, appearance-wise, with Bad's dark skin and clothes seeming to drag in light, whereas Skeppy seemed almost to extrude it.

Three, Bad and Skeppy both liked singing. Bad's voice was nasally at the best of times, and singing only made it worse. Skeppy, on the other hand, was a surprisingly decent singer, but he was always violently off key, and his tendency to switch words around and go on impromptu solos only served to ruin the song.

Four, Bad hated cursing. Techno didn't mind, he'd never really been one for wasting words like that, but it was almost funny watching such an intimidating figure get distressed over someone saying fuck.

Five, apparently, hybrids made sounds. He'd assumed so, considering how he grunted when distracted or thinking, and squealed when startled, but it was interesting how others did it too. Bad made a low growling noise under his breath when frustrated, and Skeppy made a rumbling sound when he was amused. 

Things were nice. Familial. Skeppy took him out to the mall every Saturday, and helped him dye his hair, and called him Tech. Bad gave him hugs, and made him roasted potatoes, and took him to get his first pair of glasses.

One day, though, he accidentally let his real name slip. Skeppy didn't notice, but Bad frowned a bit, and pulled him aside after dinner.

"Hey kiddo, I… do you want us to call you that, or Techno?" 

Techno hesitated. "...Can you call me Techno? I don't… I don't think…" 

Bad hummed, but his eyebrows were still creased. He opened his mouth to say something, before closing it. Techno scowled, leaning forward. 

"What?"

Bad bared his teeth uncomfortably, before very slowly answering. "You said your last name is Soot?" At a nod from the boy, Bad continued. "Do you… do you happen to know a boy named Wilbur?"

Wilbur had been living with a friend of Bad's, a falcon hybrid named Phil. Apparently, he'd ended up in the foster system, and had moved to town a few weeks before Bad caught Techno. The pig hybrid felt his stomach pitch with anxiety, although he wasn't sure why.

Bad assured Techno that Phil was a very nice man, but he wasn't convinced. People weren't nice. Not without a reason. Bad and Skeppy included, although their motives must be more long term. 

Bad and Phil set up a time for the boys to meet, and then it was a matter of hours. 

They drove to Phil's house in an uncomfortable silence. Techno was too anxious to say anything, his stomach in knots.

He found that his hands were shaking as he fumbled to clean his glasses for the billionth time that day. Before he could polish a hole in them though, a light brown hand grabbed his. He jumped, staring at Skeppy as the small man smiled gently. 

"You're going to be okay. Both of you." 

Techno shook his head. "What if he doesn't like me? It's been seven years, what if... what if he doesn't remember me?"

Bad glanced in the rear-view mirror. "Then he's dumb. If you meant anywhere near as much to him as you mean to us, he'd never forget you."

Techno felt his heart stutter and choke, and he had to force himself to remember not to care.

Phil Watson lived in a picturesque white house, with daisies in the window boxes and a minivan in the driveway. The grass was green and the porch swing was black. It looked like a Hallmark movie.

And then the door flew open, and there he was. Wilbur hadn't changed much in seven years. He'd gotten taller, of course. His dark brown hair was trimmed short, in a fringe that brushed his eyebrows. He wore a baggy black hoodie and skinny jeans, and a pair of glasses rested on his nose.

He wasn't a pig. It was rare for one identical twin to be a hybrid, while the other wasn't, but it was possible. Techno hadn't considered that Wilbur hadn't seen him as a pig, and might not have even known he was a hybrid, but now, as his brother stared at him, at his tusks, at his ears, at the with tail that flicked behind him in anxiety, he felt his jaw wobble.

Wilbur stared, his chocolate brown eyes taking in all of Techno, and then he was moving. He jogged forward, and Techno slowly walked forward, and then they both ran, slamming into each other in a hug that ripped the breath from Techno's chest.

They stood there for a while, arms wrapped around themselves, each other, together. Techno's eyes squeezed closed. His brother smelled like vanilla candles and window cleaner. Then, Wilbur was laughing, pulling himself away. Techno let out an embarrassing squeal and opened his eyes. 

Was he laughing at him? At how trusting he'd become? Wilbur was the only person he'd ever really truly understood, the only one he trusted. Did he think that was funny? Dangling happiness in front of Techno, then yanking it away?

One look at Wilbur relieved all his fears though. The young teen scrubbed at his tears, his laughs bubbling out wetly. 

"Holy fuck… Holy fuck I missed you." Wilbur moved his hands to Techno's face, and he had to fight the urge to start crying at the feeling of his soft palms squishing his cheeks. Wilbur was looking at his ears now, and his tusks, and he was chuckling again. "You've changed, man."

Techno felt that coax out a laugh from him and responded, "Mngh. The sweatshirts new, yeah. Thanks for noticing."

Wilbur laughed again, his face lighting up in delight at Techno's scratchy monotone voice. 

He'd almost forgotten about Bad and Skeppy, his not-dads, until he heard the diamond man clear his throat. Wilbur's hands slipped to Techno's arm so the hybrid could turn to look at him.

Skeppy grinned at him, his eyes sparkling like the gems on his face. "Hey, Techno, we're gonna go inside to talk to Phil, are you guys going to be okay?"

Techno nodded, turning back to Wilbur, but the other boy was already staring at him. "What did he call you?"

Techno shifted uncomfortably. "Mmmn… Technoblade? I… I don't know if you remember…"

Wilbur snorted. "You remember that?"

Of course Techno had remembered. Wilbur had given him that nickname when they were kids, as a joke. The Adventures of Technoblade and Crime Boy. He had rolled his eyes and called him dumb, but of course he'd remembered. 

He and Wilbur sat together, cramming together in a single arm chair, practically on top of each other. Techno finally met the famous Phil Watson, and he had to admit, the man gave off a safe and reassuring energy.

He had no idea what Phil was thinking. He had no idea what Bad and Skeppy were thinking. Hell, he had no idea what Wilbur was thinking. But for once, he didn't mind much.

Phil was nice, calling Techno 'mate', and 'bud', and laughing at all his dry, unfunny jokes. He laughed a lot, at Skeppy's weird stories, and Bad's mock frustration at his roommate. He laughed at Wilbur too, calling him 'Will', and 'son', and Wilbur called him dad.

Wilbur was better at reading people, better at deciding who to trust. And he trusted Phil. So Techno trusted Phil.

He moved out of Bad and Skeppy’s apartment that weekend, insisting he's overstayed his welcome, despite them desperately telling him he hadn’t, he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. 

He left anyway, continuing to wander through town. He visited them, sometimes, listening to Skeppy talk about his friends at college, or his recent pranks, and Bad would make cookies, but he always left afterwards. He visited Phil too, sometimes, sitting with Wilbur on the couch and eating chips. He would sometimes stay for pizza, but he always left before the sun went down.

Summer was hot in L’Manburg, the heat beating down on him, the sun turning his muscles to mush. Eventually, he gave up on huddling in the shade of a tree in the park, and decided to find somewhere cool to stay.

He broke into Badlands Coffee and Baked Goods at three in the morning, jimmying the lock. The password for the alarm system was the same as the one at Bad’s apartment, as he expected. He huddled in the back, between the flour and the oatmeal, and slipped into a restless sleep.

The next morning, he woke up to a small, startled looking cat hybrid staring at him. He stared back, the two of them wide eyed and confused, before the cat slowly backed away. “Uh, Bad? There’s a kid back here.”

Bad didn’t kick him out, just grinned and asked if he wanted some lemonade. Of course he did, and they both knew it.

Techno insisted on paying him back, and Bad agreed, on the condition that he stayed in the cafe at night, and ate three meals a day. Techno huffed, but agreed. 

Bad did not understand how much he’d helped Techno. The boy owed him his life, and would happily run into traffic for him, but he instead insisted on trying to waste the boy’s IOU on little things. Taking out the garbage, pouring the muffin batter, helping the cat hybrid, Anthony, sweep the floor. Every time he did one of these small, menial tasks, the demon would smile and pronounce his debt paid. Techno refused to allow this, though. He argued that he owed Bad more, and that was just a favour between friends. Bad would shrug, and say that if he wanted, he could stay, until Bad came up with something bigger.

Techno did. He stayed for nearly two whole years until something bigger came up.

Bad and Skeppy had taken in a kid. 

Bad came in late one day, shaking in exhaustion, and told Anthony and Techno that a social worker had called late last night, asking if she could drop off a toddler with them. They’d agreed, as having a kid was always one of their biggest dreams, but the kid was apparently a handful and a half, and spent the whole night stumbling around the room and breaking things. Slowly, an idea formed in Techno’s head, and he stood up excitedly.

“I could help!” 

Bad’s white eyes flew to him, and his eyebrows creased. “Hm?”

Techno flushed a bit, but continued. “Uh, I could help. Babysit him, keep an eye on him… I don’t know, but that could be my way of paying off my debt!”

Bad frowned a bit, already shaking his head. “No, I… couldn’t ask you to do that… It’s way too much…”

Anthony spoke up then, ears twitching a bit in thought. “Why not? I say let him give it a shot, watch the kid for a day or something. Worst case, it is too hard, and you find something else for him to do. Best case, his debt’s paid off in, like, a month or something.”

The demon had paused at this, before looking at Techno carefully. “...Ok. One day.”

It was way too much. Watching the kid scramble around the apartment and climb on furniture, Techno felt his head spin. Finally, he huffed, sitting down in the middle of the living room and pulling out a book. 

He got caught up in reading, and didn’t even notice the five year old standing in front of him until a little hand grabbed the page, threatening to rip it. 

“Hey!” He batted the kid’s hand away, scowling at him witheringly. The kid stared back, black eyes fixed unblinkingly on the teen. “Go away. I’m only here because your dads didn’t want you alone.”

The kid huffed, sitting across from him. “No fun.”

Techno blinked at him. “I’m no fun?” The kid nodded, and the teen scowled even deeper. “I’m lots of fun, you just suck.”

The boy laughed, and listed sideways until he was laying on the carpet, smiling up at Techno. “What’s your name?”

“Technoblade.”

“That’s a dumb name. I’m Sapnap.”

Techno scoffed. “That’s an even dumber name.”

Sapnap shrugged. They sat there for a bit before the boy spoke up again. “What book is that?”

“Animal Farm. It’s about communism and the greediness of mankind.”

“What?”

“... It’s about a bunch of farm animals.”

Sapnap’s face lit up. “Cool! Are you a farm animal?”

Techno froze. He knew he looked like a pig, but for some reason, he’d assumed the younger boy wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t connect the dots. “What?”

Sapnap grinned, oblivious to the panic that wrapped the older boy like a molten-hot blanket. “A farm animal! Pigs are farm animals, right? And you’re a pig, right? So, you’re a farm animal!”

Techno shook his head violently. “No, I’m a pig hybrid, so I’m basically human.”

The boy pouted. “Oh. That sucks. I really like pigs.”

“... You do?”

“Yeah!” Sapnap smiled brightly, sitting up in excitement. “I think they’re super neat! Like, did you know that pigs can survive in freezing weather for weeks at a time, but if they can’t stand temperatures above 95 degrees?”

Techno blinked. He hadn’t known that, but that certainly explained a few things. Sapnap kept talking, rambling on and on about pigs, and fish, and dinosaurs, leaving Techno to just nod, grunting occasionally.

At some point, Sapnap tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes at Techno. “Hey… Can you make pig noises?” 

Techno nodded, and they spent the next hour or so with Sapnap in absolute stitches as he squealed and oinked and snorted. 

Skeppy came home to two smiling boys, and a ruined apartment, and a confused husband.

Techno refused to accept that as his payback, insisting on babysitting Sapnap for free. Every day, he would come over to their apartment, sit on the floor, and listen to Sapnap ramble about anything and everything for two or three hours, then leave. Things were great.

Then Bad hired a new person at the cafe, a woman named Puffy, and her son started coming over so Techno could watch him too.

Dream was a couple years older than Sapnap, and a lot more quiet. He sat next to Techno, watching him carefully. He was almost creepy, in all honesty, and Techno avoided looking at him. Finally, Dream spoke up, almost too quietly for Techno to hear.

“Can we go to the park?”

Techno texted Bad and Puffy, and they agreed, so he walked the boys down to the playground, letting them run around for a while, as he huddled under a tree. Eventually, Dream asked him to play tag with them, and he did, although it ended up with him and Sapnap ganging up to try to catch Dream. The kid was fast, he had to admit.

Eventually, the two made a new friend, a nervous boy named George, and he joined them in their games, giving Techno the chance to sit back and read.

He liked kids, he decided. They were honest, unlike adults, and said what they were feeling. There was no passive aggressive words that he had to unravel, no sarcastic words to get under his skin. If a kid was upset, they let you know.

Techno was 18 when Phil adopted another kid. Wilbur borderline begged him to come over and help, and he finally agreed. 

Tommy, the kid, was a headache, to be fair. For a three year old, he moved quickly, and screamed loudly. Techno eventually just picked him up and set him on his shoulders, before going to the kitchen to grab some food. Tommy stopped screaming after that, just holding onto Techno’s long hair and staring around in wonder.

Then Bad asked him to help a friend of his, and he obliged, half wondering how bad this could possibly be. 

He knocked on the door, and it was opened by an exhausted looking man with a pair of ram’s horns that curled around the sides of his face. He wore a baggy sweater with the word “fuck.” on it in curly script, and a pair of pajama pants with little ducks on them.

“Hallo.” Techno said. “Is this the Schlatt residence.”

The guy nodded, waving for the taller man to come in. “Yeah, uh. Technoblade Soot, right?” 

The kid was in the living room with a vaguely familiar guy who stared at Techno with a look of fear, but the pig hybrid was given no time to think on that, as the kid stumbled over to him to grab his leg. 

His tiny little fingers grabbed onto his jeans and his huge blue eyes gazed at him with so much awe that he almost laughed. “Oink, oink.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the kid’s dad stiffen, looking like he was either going to admonish the kid or jump in to defend him..

Techno just knelt down, stared the boy in the eye, and let out a snort. 

The toddler shrieked with laughter. Techno felt his mouth tug a bit as the kid oinked back, tiny voice wild with giggles.

He came back to keep an eye on the boy when he could, reading him stories and talking to him about nonsense. He figured out where he’d recognized the boy’s other dad, Quackity. He’d gone to the school Techo used to sneak into. He probably remembered Techno stabbing that Daniel kid in the leg. Probably. If he did, he didn’t say anything, or try to kick Techno out. He just avoided him, something that Techno found himself grateful for.

It was weird, how nice things were. He still lived in the back room of Badlands, his little cot shoved between the wall and the fridge, and he still walked two miles every day to Bad’s apartment for breakfast and to keep an eye on Sapnap for a while, until walking another half mile to the Schlatt apartment for lunch and Tubbo. He was tired nearly every day, and he still didn’t trust people, not nearly as much as he thought he should, but it was better. Everything was better.

He didn't mind people, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would anyone be interested in my writing an xisuma chapter?


	3. A Hermit's Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xisuma was not a people person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look. i know how incredibly ooc x is in this but goddamn am i proud of how this turned out.

Xisuma Voyde was a loner, and a recluse, and that’s exactly how he liked it. Talking to people required patience he wasn’t sure he had, and he had a habit of losing interest in other people within minutes of meeting them. Besides, he was more than a little sick of people asking questions about his wings, more than a little sick of explaining the difference between bee hybrids and wasp hybrids. 

He lived in a house way too big for one person, halfway between L’Manburg and Hypixel, on a little dirt road he half-jokingly called Hermit Lane. Sometimes, teens would show up and dare each other to knock on his weathered oak door, but for the most part, it was quiet. 

He didn’t spend all his time inside, of course. He went grocery shopping, but he worked from home as a freelance writer, and he made a point not to go to any bars, or to the mall, or anywhere people would try to talk to him. He lived a simple life. An easy life, all things considered.

Then the kid showed up.

He was making bread on an early spring afternoon when he heard a knock on his front door. With a quiet groan, he slid the pan in the oven and walked to the window near the door. It was a familiar sight, a young boy, probably around seven or eight years old, standing on his porch. Around the bottom of the stairs was a small crowd of older kids, who snickered and shoved each other.

With a muttered curse, Xisuma flung open the door to glare at them. Most of the kids scattered with laughter, but the kid at the porch just stared at him.

The kid was tiny, he noticed, with fluffy sand colored hair and a round face. He noticed a pair of fluffy white wings on his back, poking through little holes in his impossibly large red sweater. The boy was a hybrid, probably either a dove or a swan. 

He was still staring at Xisuma with impossibly large brown eyes and the man huffed, before shutting the door in the kid’s face.

He went back to the kitchen to set the timer and put the mixing bowl in the sink, turning on the tap to start washing up, before he heard knocking at his door. Immediately, he turned off the tap to stare at it, blinking in confusion. Were the kids back already? Had he imagined it? There was more knocking, loud and full of intent and he felt himself move to the door.

He opened it right as the boy in the red sweater raised his fist to knock again, and the boy blinked before looking up at him and smiling. 

Smiling.

The kid smiled at him.

Xisuma almost turned around to check if there was someone standing behind him, but the kid started speaking.

“Hello, my name is Grian. What’s your name?”

Xisuma stared at him, blank faced in absolute confusion. Most of the kids who knocked on his door would run as soon as they saw him, satisfied in their prank. For some reason, they seemed almost scared of him, sending younger children up to knock, instead of doing it themselves, something he honestly wasn’t sure if he understood. None of them came back until they were sure he’d let his guard down. And none of them tried to talk to him. 

He realised he’d been staring at the kid for a while and finally answered with a quiet “Xisuma.”

The kid- Grian- beamed excitedly, and began to speak again, but Xisuma wasn’t listening, instead looking down the road for any teens hiding behind trees, filming him, or laughing at his expense.

Grian suddenly jumped to wave a hand in his face, stumbling when he landed weirdly. “Hey, Mr Xisuma? Were you listening?”

Xisuma frowned at him a bit. “No. Where are your friends?” 

Grian looked confused for a moment, before his eyes widened and he laughed, his wings puffing up a bit in amusement. “Oh, you mean Sam and his group? We’re not friends. I don’t know them.”

Xisuma scowled, leaning against the doorway. “What do you mean?”

Grian shrugged. “I’m new in town. They told me if I knocked on your door I could be their friend, if I survived.” Noticing the man’s expression, he paused. “Wait, you’re not actually going to kill me, right?”

Xisuma sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do they really say I kill people?”

The boy paused, before nodding, tilting his head a bit. “Do you not actually?”

He laughed, then, a sharp, disbelieving sound. “Don’t tell me you thought I did, then knocked on my door, not once, but twice? If I did kill people, you’ve essentially made yourself a prime target.”

Grian frowned. “Wait, you don’t kill people?”

The kid looked genuinely confused, tilted head reminding the man a bit of a pigeon. Neither of them said anything for a while, just staring at each other in confusion. And then Xisuma shut the door, and turned away, heading back to the kitchen.

As he expected, the sound of a tiny fist knocking at his door echoed through the house within seconds, but he ignored it, turning on the sink and scrubbing at the mixing bowl with a sigh. The knocks paused for a second, and he heaved a sigh of relief at the momentary silence. Until they continued, with even more fervour than before. 

He let out a groan, tossing the bowl onto the drying rack and drying his hands on his sweater, pulling the sleeves down as he stormed back to the door, throwing it open to glare at Grian, who jumped a bit.

“Hi, Mr Xisuma. Your doorbell doesn’t work.”

Xisuma fought down a frustrated scream, glaring down at the scrawny kid. “You have no self preservation, do you?”

Grian shrugged. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Figures. Why are you here?”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “You look lonely! I figured it must not be fun to live out here on your own, so I wanted to offer my friendship!”

Xisuma’s head was starting to hurt. He leaned against the doorway again, squinting at the kid, who was still smiling brightly up at him. “Do your parents know you wander around befriending random old men?”

Grian shrugged, smile not fading as he responded happily, “My parents are dead.”

Xisuma froze, blinking at the tiny kid, half expecting a ‘sike’ but the kid seemed completely genuine. “What.”

Grian nodded. “Yeah, car wreck. I was four. Hey, are you baking bread? It smells good!”

Xisuma still hadn’t moved, still looking at him in horror. “B- Who are you living with!?”

Grian shrugged, looking bored with the subject. “Mm, no one? I don’t actually have a house anymore, and my aunt kicked me out when I grew my wings, so I slept in the tunnels at the playground last night. Like I said, I’m new in town.”

The tall man let out a nervous grunt, glancing around, half expecting a camera crew to be hidden behind a bush. “Ok… so you’re homeless, and orphaned, and you’re… trying to befriend me because you think I look lonely?” 

The boy smiled. “Yeah!”

He felt his stomach sink. “Uh… I guess... I’ll be your friend, then?” Ignoring the way the tiny boy smiled at him, he glanced back to the kitchen, and sighed. “I am actually making bread. Do you… want some?”

Grian’s face lit up even brighter and he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Thanks!”

He skipped through the house, ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing at everything, gasping in delight at the paintings and furniture, and for some reason, it felt so genuine that Xisuma couldn’t even think of a response. This wasn’t politeness, the boy actually thought his house was nice, thought his weird old junk was cool. 

He sighed, telling the boy to sit down as he checked the bread. It wasn’t quite done and he added five more minutes to the timer, but he got out the jam and butter, hesitating and looking at the kid, who was looking around in awe.

“Do you… do you want tea?”

Grian nodded, and he turned to the tea cabinet, pulling out two tea bags and putting the kettle on. Suddenly, a familiar voice piped up. “Can you fly?”

Xisuma turned to blink at him, frowning a bit. “Pardon?’

Grian pointed at his wings. “Can you fly?”

The man paused, feeling his wings twitch a bit as attention was called to them. “I… I don’t think so. I’m probably too heavy, I doubt they would work.”

“Oh. Are you a beetle?”

He laughed a bit at that, shaking his head. “No, I’m a bee.”

Grian sat up a little straighter. “Ooh, really?! Do you have a stinger?”

He snorted. “No, I don’t.”

The boy squirmed excitedly. “Oh, do you have fuzz? Or stripes?”

Xisuma looked at him for a moment, a small smile on his face, before rolling up his sleeves and revealing the thick black stripes that circled his arms, all the way from his wrist to his shoulder. The kid let out an excited squeal, clapping his hand happily. 

“That’s so neat! I just got the wings. Also, hollow bones, apparently. I only weigh twenty pounds!”

Xisuma frowned. “That’s… not a lot.”

The kettle whistled then, and he turned to pour it into two mugs with the tea bags, hesitating before adding some honey.

Grian smiled at him happily, taking the mug and letting it warm his hands while it brewed. After a bit, Xisuma pulled the bread out of the oven and put it on the table to cool. It was quiet for a bit, both of them just sitting at the small table, wrapped in their own thoughts, until Xisuma broke the silence.

“Do… Do you want to stay the night?” Grian’s head snapped to look at him, and he very quickly continued. “I just mean… I have an extra bedroom- I don’t want to leave you outside… It’s kinda cold out-”

He was cut off by a laugh, as Grian snorted into his mug. “Mmkay!”

And that was that. They had dinner, and Xisuma showed Grian the guest bedroom, and the bathroom, and after a pause, his own room. He layed in bed for a while that night, listening for something, although he wasn’t sure what he was listening for. 

He had nightmares that night.

Grian slept late the next morning, and Xisuma checked on him several times just to make sure he was still there, still alive. He didn’t know why. He didn’t particularly like the kid, he told himself.

He was in the middle of making a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch when he heard quiet footsteps pad down the stairs. 

“Hallo, Mr. Ess-you-mah!”

He fought down the urge to correct the kid and just nodded at him. “You slept late. Missed breakfast.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No skin off my back.”

Grian laughed at that, although X wasn’t quite sure what was so funny about it. He stood next to the man for a moment, watching him cook, before losing interest and wandering off. Xisuma heard him go back upstairs and scowled, wondering what he was up to. He didn’t want to follow, but he also really really did.

He huffed, shaking himself a bit, his wings buzzing a bit as his back muscles twitched. He plated the sandwich, pausing a moment before making another one. 

Grian still wasn’t back by the time the second was done. 

Xisuma frowned a bit, walking to the staircase and calling up it. He didn’t hear a response, which concerned him more than it should’ve. He hesitated before starting up. “Grian? Are you up there?”

Silence.

He stood at the top, glancing briefly back at the stairs before continuing forward, glancing into the rooms as he headed to the room the boy had stayed in the night before. 

His heart was pounding, although he wasn’t sure why.

The door was shut, and he stood there, just staring at it for a moment, before knocking. “Grian, are you in there? I made you a sandwich?” A quiet rustling noise, but no response. “Grian, I’m coming in.”

He opened the door, and poked his head in. Standing in the middle of the room, huddled over an upside down laundry hamper, was Grian. He looked at Xisuma innocently, even after the hamper made a rather suspicious squawking noise. X stared at the boy, then at the basket, then he started forward.

Grian’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t do anything as the man picked up the hamper and-

It was a chicken. A chicken sat in Grian’s room, staring up at them, blinking in confusion. Xisuma stared at it, then at Grian, who just batted his eyes at him, still trying to play innocent, even as the chicken pecked at Xisuma's toes.

He never found out how Grian managed to get the chicken in there. Years later, he’d ask in wonder, only for the boy to smile at him and wink secretively. Some things were just not meant to be known, he’d say.

Grian was an odd boy. Xisuma had expected as much from the start, but after a weekend of living together, he knew for sure that he’d never met anyone quite like the enigma of a boy. 

He was unnaturally small for his age, only coming up to Xisuma’s knee, but he was fast, and sneaky. He was smart too, although X often forgot it during his odd rambles and silly pranks. He was confident, or maybe just incredibly stupid, and impossibly charming, or maybe Xisuma was going soft.

Finally, the man ran out of food, and he was bracing himself for a trip to the store when Grian piped up from the couch, eyes watching his hands as he buttoned his coat. “Can I come?”

Xisuma paused, before nodding at him. The boy immediately jumped up, running to his room to grab his sweater and running back down so quickly that Xisuma was worried for his safety. They climbed into Xisuma’s truck and they were off.

Grian clung to the man’s hand so tightly he faintly wondered if he was trying to break it. The kid wasn’t nervous, per-se, just clingy. He clung to the man’s coat, trailing him through the supermarket. His wings puffed up in excitement at the sight of the candy aisle and he tugged on X’s arm, giving him puppy dog eyes.

Xisuma huffed, running a hand through his greying hair and looking around, almost as if checking for anyone who might notice his moment of weakness. Seeing no one looking at them, he nodded, and they went through, Grian happily shoving candy in the basket.

At one point, Xisuma realised that Grian was gone from his side. He squashed down the anxiety that broiled in his stomach, the boy would come back eventually, and went back to selecting bananas.

“Will Grian’s father please come to the help desk?”

He froze, glancing around as if someone else was going to step forward, but no one else batted an eye. Grian’s parents were dead. His father was dead. Which meant-

Grian was crying when he got there. The dog hybrid employee was looking incredibly nervous as he looked up at Xisuma. Grian noticed him a split second after and jumped off the desk to tackle him in a hug, still bawling his eyes out.

The employee huffed out a relieved sigh, slumping in his seat a bit. His nametag read ‘Hi! I’m REN, How can I help?’, but his expression made X almost wince in sympathy. The poor man looked incredibly overworked, and not at all happy to be there. 

He ended up holding Grian for the rest of the trip, not putting him down until they got to the car. They drove in silence, Xisuma glancing at the boy in the rearview mirror more time than he could count. Finally he spoke up.

“What happened?”

Grian looked up at him, eyes finally dry, but his cheeks still red and flushed and so so sad, and Xisuma had to fight the urge to reach back and give him a hug, but the boy shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

X raised an eyebrow, and the boy sighed, pouting a bit and folding his arms over his chest.

“I really don’t. I turned around and you were gone. I thought you… I thought you left…” Grian sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

Xisuma almost crashed the car at that, his eyes flying to the mirror. “No, no, don’t be sorry. I should’ve kept an eye on you.”

It was quiet for a while, before Grian’s quiet, wobbly voice spoke up again. “Are you going to make me leave?”

Xisuma hadn’t thought about it. It hadn’t really occurred to him, before then, but in that moment, he made up his mind. “No. No, you can stay with me as long as you like.”

Summer passed uneventfully, Xisuma buying cooler clothes for Grian, and letting him get ice cream nearly every weekend. They left the house more, and Xisuma realised that the L’Manburg park was ideal for picnics, although the kids in the area had a habit of acting out battle, even having a mock civil war at one point. Grian’s ninth birthday came and went, a triple chocolate cake for the birthday boy.

At one point, X sat down Grian to talk about the inevitable. School. The deadline for signing up your kid was that Friday, and he’d been delaying the conversation. Grian huffed, frowning at the idea, but finally agreed to at least try it out.

The first day was incredibly tense. Xisuma kept glancing at the phone, the clock, the door, knowing full well that if Grian wanted him to come pick him up, he absolutely would, no questions asked. He cared more about the kid then he wanted to admit.

He was scared sick that Grian would get off the bus in tears, and as he waited for him, he felt his stomach twist and churn. Finally, the school bus arrived, and Grian hopped off, smiling and waving at the bus driver with a happy “Bye Mr. Scar! Say hi to your kitty cat for me!” and came skipping up to Xisuma.

He’d made a friend, he reported happily, over a snack of cookies and tea, a boy named Mumbo who was really smart, and let him play with his basketball during reccess. He talked about his bus driver, Mr Scar, who was friendly, and thought his wizard drawing was very good.

Xisuma just sat there, listening to him talk, smiling at him. 

Later on, Grian told him that every kid whose parents joined the Parent Socializing Club got a free cookie in class, looking at him like he was trying to clue him in on something, and the man had to ask what he meant by that. 

“Well, I mean you should join the Parent Club, duh!”

“I’m not your parent, though.”

“They don’t have to know that!”

He laughed, ruffling the boy’s sandy hair, and sent him to set the table, but that night, he thought about it. He didn’t have any friends, he knew, unless you counted the boy snoring down the hallway. He rarely actually spoke to people, and the thought of joining a Socializing Club made him shudder, but… maybe… maybe it would be nice.

It wasn’t. As soon as he set foot in the room, he felt his muscles tense up, his hands clench. A woman walked up to him, holding a clipboard, and smiled at him. 

“Hi, what’s your name?”

“Mm.. Xisuma, Xisuma Voyde?” His eyes nervously darted to the paper as she glanced at it, before she looked up.

“You’re… Grian Colemen’s guardian, correct?” 

He nodded, and she smiled again, waving him toward the refreshment stand. He grabbed a styrofoam cup of impossibly cheap coffee and a stale donut and stood in the corner. He felt a little bit too much like a kid at a high school party, but he absolutely refused to actually go up to any of the other adults standing around the room, so he just sipped his coffee and stewed. 

Finally, a voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” A man stood at the refreshment stand, looking directly at him. He felt a brief moment of panic well in his gut as he realised that he looked to be entirely human, and he jolted a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. 

The guy grinned amiably and stuck out a hand. “I’m Iskall, it’s nice to meet you.” Xisuma shook his hand quickly, muttering an introduction. The other man chuckled. “I’m not going to bite you or anything, I swear, I’m entirely friendly.” 

X huffed, nodding a bit. “Yeah, I know, I’m just… Not used to talking to people.”

Iskall didn’t laugh at that, or ask questions, as Xisuma feared he would, only nodding sympathetically and smiling. “Well, if you want me to go away, let me know, otherwise I’m absolutely going to keep talking.”

Xisuma paused. He really did want this guy to leave. He was weird, and talkative, and smiled way too much. But… he had told Grian he would work on making friends, so he puffed out a breath and shook his head. “No, you can stay, but I’m not promising I’ll talk back.”

Nearly two hours later, Iskall was very cheerfully describing some sort of bizarre tree house he was planning to build. X had long since given up on paying attention, and was just looking around, examining the other parents. Finally, the Club was over, and Iskall patted him on the back and left, leaving him to stare at the seat the other man had occupied. 

He came back the next week, and the week after, and the week after. He liked it, liked listening to the strange man ramble. At some point, Iskall tried to nudge him into conversation, and he obliged, telling some story about Grian and his silly pranks, and was met with a happy grin.

Things were wonderful for a while, Iskall introduced him to his son, Fundy, a sneaky little fox hybrid; and he finally met Grian’s friend Mumbo, a very polite and very tall boy with incredibly neat hair. He published an article that got him several emails from big magazines, and he started going out for coffee at a local coffee shop twice a week. When people smiled at him, he smiled back.

It was funny, he thought, how kids still knocked on his door nearly a year after Grian moved in. 

At one point, Grian invited one in, and Xisuma came down to lunch to see Grian chatting happily to a nervous blond boy who stared at him with wide eyes as being introduced as Etho. Xisuma nodded at him, grabbed a sandwich and went back upstairs. 

Grian was encouraged by this, apparently, and started bringing friends home more and more. Over time, the house became a hive of activity, with twenty or so kids. X eventually called Iskall over to help him keep an eye on the swarm, and was met with hysterical laughter.

One of the kids, a strange boy named Joe, called the house a Hermit-Craft, to keep the loners of the world aloft from the floods of life. He was immediately smacked upside the head by one of his friends, a pale girl named Chloe, who scowled at him and yelled, “Are you implying we’re hermits?! I’m only eight, I can’t be a hermit!”

Despite her protestations, Joe’s nickname caught on like wild-fire, and the kids became known as the Hermits, a name mostly used amongst themselves as a title to distinguish themselves. They came to the Hermit Craft nearly every week, and when summer started, nearly every day, leaving Xisuma to scramble after them with a desperation that bordered on panic. 

Eventually, one of his neighbors, a one-armed creeper hybrid named Doctor Mudentrieg came over to complain about the noise, and upon seeing the mess, stuck around to help X and Iskall. He pointed out at one point that they could just kick the kids out, to which Iskall laughed. “No, Xisuma needs the companionship.”

Xisuma didn’t argue, because he really couldn’t think of anything to say.

Doc M started coming over more and more, although he mostly just sat on the couch with Etho and read a book. Xisuma couldn’t complain. He really appreciated the man’s company, and decided having someone there doing nothing was better than having no one there at all.

At one point, Mumbo and Grian dragged in a very confused homeless man named Keralis, and forced him to sit on the couch and watch Tangled with them.

Keralis moved into one of the spare bedrooms that night, at Xisuma's insistence, on the condition that he helped out with the kids.

The house was no longer empty, or quiet. It swarmed with a sea of children, buzzed with noise and chaos, pranks-gone-wrong shaking the floorboards, Keralis' laughter nearly constantly floating through the air.

Xisuma Voyde was no longer a loner or a recluse, and he honestly didn’t mind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be skeppy and bad, then probably niki ranboo and eret? idk lemme know.


	4. Settling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a daredevil and his view on love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, i have had this sitting in drafts for ages and got sick of rereading it, so here.
> 
> shoutout to the one (1) person who wanted this

Skeppy was not a fan of the idea of settling in. He’d always wanted a life of adventure, and a hot girlfriend, and the concept of living in a tiny apartment somewhere was… not what he wanted, at all.

His little brother Mega said he was stubborn, and needed to get over himself, and he said Mega was a bitch and a toddler. The kid rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t argue. He honestly couldn't argue, because every time they did have an argument, Skeppy would just not look at him, thus rendering his sign language useless. It was a petty move on Skeppy’s part, but it worked. He always got the final word in. 

Now, things were changing. He was moving out, going to college. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea, or hated it, but he knew one thing. His dorm was way too big for one person.

“Uh, Skep,” His friend Zelk set down the box he was holding to look around. “I thought you said you picked a one person dorm?”

Skeppy shrugged, scratching one of the patches of diamond crystals on his arm and scowling at the other bed. “Maybe… they just gave me an extra bed? For guests?” Mega gave him a look and he huffed before turning away, reaching for his suitcase to start unpacking. “Whatever, it’ll be fine. Besides, I’m friendly, I can put up with a roommate.”

Said roommate arrived around an hour later, after Zelk and Mega had both left, when Skeppy was hanging up his high school football jersey. 

He was impossibly tall, and had rippling muscles, like a bodybuilder. His skin was a dark grey, almost black, with red designs winding up his arms. He had a pair of wickedly sharp horns that sprouted from his head, and a long, scaly tail that wound around his legs and ended in a puff of dark hair. Skeppy’s first thought was that he could very easily step on the much smaller diamond golem without a second thought.

They stared at each other for a while, before the demon shrugged, moving to the other bed and putting down a cardboard box, before turning to offer his hand to Skeppy. “Hi, I’m Bad.”

Skeppy snorted at that, taking the man’s clawed hand in his and shaking it. “Bad? Are you kidding?”

Bad scowled. “No? That’s my name.”

Skeppy shrugged. “Ok, sure, whatever,” He turned back to the framed jersey, trying to straighten it out. “I’m Skeppy, by the way.”

He heard Bad huff a sigh, and start unpacking his stuff.

They worked in silence for a while, each setting up their part of the small room. Bad had put up fairy lights, and a flag with orange, yellow, white and blue stripes. Skeppy didn’t recognize it, but he assumed it was a pride flag of some sort. The other man had also put up three different lava lamps, and placed a small stuffed horse on his bed, and Skeppy decided maybe he wasn’t all that intimidating after all.

The first few weeks went by with minimal interaction between the two. Skeppy was a computer science major, and Bad was working in business, so there was not a lot of overlap between the two of their classes, and their sleep schedules were nearly reversed, with Skeppy staying up all night, and sleeping during the day.

It was almost funny how little he knew about the guy. He knew he was a demon hybrid, he liked baked pastries, and he didn’t like it when Skeppy cursed. (Which, of course meant that Skeppy cursed even more.)

One day, though, Bad’s computer started acting up, and Skeppy was the closest person who knew anything about computers.

Skeppy went through the old laptop, looking in every possible folder for viruses or bugs. Nothing. In all honesty, it just looked like the fan had gotten overheated. Bad was looking at him nervously, though, and he decided it would be no fun to just tell him to get a lapboard instead of putting it on a pillow, so he put on his most convincing expression and shook his head.

“Yeah, this is bad. You’ve been hacked.”

Bad’s face went an ashy grey, his blank white eyes widening. “What?! How? Why?”

Skeppy pressed his lips together tightly in what he hoped looked like concern, not like an attempt to stifle a giggle. “Don’t know. If we don’t take care of this, it’ll just get worse, though. We gotta do something.”

Bad hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the smaller man. “How do I know you’re not trolling me?”

Skeppy widened his eyes, placing a hand over his chest. “Me? Lie? Why would I do that? You’ve been nothing but kind to me, that would be just cruel.”

Bad huffed. “Yeah… It really would be…” He paused again, still glaring at Skeppy with no small amount of suspicion before he stood abruptly, grabbing the laptop from him. “Ok, but I’m getting someone else to fix it.”

The “someone else” was apparently an old friend of Bad’s, who was working in the library when the two stormed in. 

“Callahan. My roommate, Skeppy here, says that my computer has been hacked.”

The man, Callahan, froze, blinking up at them, one ear flicking a bit. He scratched the base of one of his horns, then started to sign at them.

‘What do you mean?’

Skeppy jumped in before Bad got the chance, gesturing at the laptop. “His computer. It’s been hacked, and he doesn't trust me to fix it.” He widened his eyes at the reindeer hybrid, hoping he got the message.

Callahan blinked at him, before nodding slowly. ‘I’ll take a look.’

Bad handed over the laptop before frowning at Skeppy. “You speak sign language?”

Skeppy hummed, watching as Callahan started looking through the folders. “Yeah, my little brother’s deaf. He’s got hearing aids, but he doesn’t like talking, which means the whole family knows it.” 

Bad made a little noise of surprise, and started saying something, but he was cut off by Callahan tapping the table to get their attention, looking at them with an odd expression. ‘Ok. There’s a hacker. What do you want me to do?’

Bad gasped, but Skeppy grinned. He was so incredibly glad that this guy was playing along, he could hug him right then and there. “Just reload the liveware. C++ should work, maybe check the Pentium?”

Callahan gave him a look, but Bad looked even more concerned. Skeppy was so glad he didn’t speak computer, that whole sentence made no sense in any stretch of the imagination, but Callahan nodded, and opened the note app on the laptop. He typed a bunch of bullshit, hit a couple random buttons, opened files, created a new one titled “1d10tc0de” and saved the note, along with a quick MSPaint doodle that almost looked like Captain America. Skeppy kept looking at Bad, expecting him to catch on, but he never did.

Finally, the reindeer handed back the laptop, smirking a bit. ‘There. The problem should be fixed.’

Bad smiled at him, sharp white teeth shining nearly as bright as his eyes. “Thank you Callahan. It was very kind of you to help me, we’ll leave you to your work. Come on Skeppy.”

Skeppy cast Callahan one last grateful look and a thumbs up, only for the man to roll his eyes and grin.

Bad invited Skeppy out for coffee, as an apology for not believing him. Skeppy tried to wave him off, tell him it wasn’t a big deal, it was fine, but thirty minutes later, he was standing in line at a little cafe called “Munchy Coffee.” He blinked at the menu, not understanding a word of it, before settling on a croissant and a large hot chocolate. Bad got a blueberry muffin and a venti half-soy nonfat caramel double-shot latte, extra hot with foam and whipped cream , and Skeppy wondered if this is how the other man felt when he talked about computers. They sat outside, since the weather was just nice enough to enjoy, and quietly drank their drinks. Bad’s tail moved among the chair legs, like a large snake, brushing leaves aside.

“So, you uh. You like coffee?” Skeppy asked awkwardly, grimacing as his voice cracked, but Bad didn’t comment on it, just humming in thought.

Finally, he answered, “Yeah, I guess. I mostly like the idea of it, you know?”

Skeppy frowned. “Huh?”

Bad sucked in a breath, pursing his lips in thought. “Well… I like coffee, as in the drink, but I also really like the idea of a coffee shop. I want to own one, you know? The smell, the feeling, the whole concept of coffee shops… It’s nice. Like home.”

Skeppy nodded, pretending he had any idea of what the guy was saying. “So you want to own a coffee shop, because it feels like home. Sure.”

Bad chuckled. “You don’t get it.”

“No, no I do!” Skeppy paused, before laughing. “Okay, no I don’t.”

Bad laughed again, eyes lighting up even brighter. They sat together for a bit, before the demon spoke up. “So, you have a brother?”

Skeppy grinned. “Yeah, Mega. He’s 16. Kinda a loser, but hey, two perfect kids in one family is kinda a long shot.”

Bad rolled his eyes, but he grinned back. “Is he a diamond golem too?”

“Nah, poor kid got stuck with emeralds. Apparently, that’s why he’d deaf, his ear drums are made of rocks,” at Bad’s horrified expression, he shrugged. “Happens a lot with golems. Parts of the body being made of gem. Half my brain is diamond, you know.”

Bad’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that part’s true.”

Skeppy couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “Nah, it’s not, but the part about his eardrums was true,” It was quiet for a moment, before the golem blurted out “I also lied about your computer being hacked.”

Bad didn’t look up from his muffin as he said, “Yeah, I know.”

“You… what?”

Bad grinned at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar, Skeppy. I knew the moment you said it. Besides, I’m not sure MSPaint is used in programming very often.”

Skeppy huffed. “Aw man…”

“So, what was really wrong with it?”

Skeppy shrugged. “It’s just old. The fan was overworked. Probably need to be cleaned, poor thing. Maybe get a lapboard or put a book under it or something, but other than that, it’s fine,” He hesitated. “Why aren’t you mad, by the way?”

Bad smiled, finishing off his coffee, standing to throw away the cup. “It was just harmless fun. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I got mad over some joke?”

A week later, Skeppy woke up from a nightmare, eyes wide and heart pounding and, withough hesitation, Bad let him crawl into bed with him, pressing against his feverishly hot skin and reminding himself to breath.

That kicked off a friendship for the ages.

They started hanging out more after that, getting coffee after classes, doing homework together. And Skeppy started to pull even more pranks. At one point, he ordered 72 pizzas, piling them all up on Bad’s bed. When Bad got back from class, he almost screamed himself hoarse, but he wasn’t mad, not really. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon handing it out to the students in the campus square.

It got colder, to Skeppy’s distress, and he found out that Bad was incredibly warm, being a Nether hybrid and all, and he started cuddling up to him, giving him surprise hugs, sticking his freezing hands under his shirt when he least expected it. In return, Bad took over Skeppy’s mini fridge, filling it with prepackaged pastries he got from Buildmart.

It was a good semester. 

The next semester was even better. His classes were easier, and during the day, so he got to hang out with Bad more. 

At some point, he asked about the mysterious pride flag, and Bad fidgeted a bit, nervously. “Uh, it’s the aro-ace flag? It means I don’t like dating, or… Other stuff.”

Skeppy raised an eyebrow. “Other stuff like… sex?”

Bad shouted at him, shoving him a bit, but they both were laughing. 

That summer was tough. They lived too far apart to actually hang out, and he was worried that when they got back, Bad wasn’t going to recognize him or maybe he’d have other friends. He texted him nonstop, to the point where Mega stole his phone and hid it one day. He didn’t talk to his brother for a week after that, too pissed off at him to acknowledge him. Eventually, he mentioned it to Bad, who pointed out that he’d been neglecting his family, and insisted he hang out with them. He agreed, sullenly, and spent the day shopping with Mega and their mom.

The room assignments were randomly assigned every year, so Skeppy and Bad were split up for their second year. Skeppy was put with a guy named Geo, who wore soft sweaters and smelled like chocolate. Bad’s roommate was a short man named Harv, who hung a bi flag right next to his aro-ace flag. They weren’t bad guys, and the four of them actually ended up hanging out a lot, along with a shapeshifter named Finn and a pug hybrid named Vurb.

Things were even better that year, in all honesty. Skeppy and Bad were even closer than ever, and Mega even visited at some point, nearly immediately getting in an argument with Finn over whether he would look good in a mini skirt (he said he wouldn’t, but he also refused to try, much to their distress.)

Then, the following summer, Bad called Skeppy to tell him he wasn’t going back to college. 

He said he was going to get an apartment, get a coffee shop, chase his dreams. Skeppy tried to stop him, but he had already made up his mind. The problem was, he explained, the apartment complex he was looking at was very specifically for couples and families, and it wasn’t going to be easy for him to get in.

And that was when Skeppy got his terrible idea. 

He was straight, and Bad was aromantic. There was literally no reason for them to have ever considered this. Literally no reason for them to actually do it, other than Bad getting an apartment, and them getting to stick together. There was no reason for them to get fake married.

But the day before school started, Skeppy was standing in a church, wearing a suit, facing Bad, trying to fight down hysterical laughter.

The preacher said they could kiss, and Bad laughed before kissing Skeppy’s nose, and they were legally wed.

They burst into the apartment, Bad cradling him in his arms and kicking the door open. Skeppy had school the next morning, so they went to bed early, cuddling up together, giggling in the sheer bizarre nature of the situation. 

Bad got his cafe, a shitty little building with a broken door and a cracked window. Skeppy wrinkled his nose in distaste at the state of things, but Bad was absolutely glowing, his eyes sparkling as he turned in a slow circle in the middle of the room, smiling in awe. 

“Skeppy… It’s perfect…”

They cleaned it up, pouring heart and soul into the shoddy building, Skeppy doing his classwork in between working on clearing the old boxes out of the backroom and painting the walls. Bad would sing as he worked, anything from old pop songs, to show tunes, to nursery rhymes, his nasally voice flowing through the air.

At one point, their friends all came over. Finn, Vurb, Geo, Harvey, Mega, Zelk, and even Callahan. 

They helped set up, hanging paintings, and fairy lights, and Callahan and Mega had an entire silent argument over whether having chalkboard menus would be better than permanent ones, and whether they should get an old timey cash register for the aesthetic. Vurb and Geo didn’t speak sign language, so Skeppy ended up translating for them, which sparked another argument, because he wasn’t doing a good enough job, and then Finn threw a handful of sugar packets at him, and then Bad hit them with a pillow, and they went down with a war cry that spurred Harvey to action, and then they were all messing around, Mega shouting wordlessly as he got thrown over the counter like bag of flour.

It was the best day of Skeppy’s life, he decided, as he watched Geo get nailed in the eye with a fake apple.

Shortly after, the Cafe had it’s grand opening.

“Badlands Cafe,” Bad said, a gentle grin on his lips as he stared at the store front. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Yeah, because you made it real, Bad,” Skeppy grinned at his husband, who grinned back. “You did it.”

A month later, Bad found a kid stealing from the cafe, and brought him home. 

“Skeppy, he’s so thin!” He whisper shouted, and Skeppy had to agree. The kid was stick thin, his hands shaky from hunger and fear, and Skeppy couldn’t let him go back out on the street.

The boy’s name was Techno, and Skeppy decided he was the second best thing in the world, after Bad of course. When he left, Skeppy realised vaguely how much he’d miss the kid.

After Bad got help in the cafe from a cat hybrid named Ant (whose boyfriend was kind of a dick) things got easier, and they managed to settle down a bit, and Skeppy finally got around to asking Bad the question he’d been wanting to ask for nearly a year.

In his dreams, he’d pull Bad aside, and they’d sit down and have a serious conversation, but in all reality, they were laying in bed, mid-December, Skeppy swaddled in layers of hoodies and sweatpants to ward out the cold, Bad’s arms wrapped around him, and he just blurted it out.

“Can we get a kid?”

Bad lifted his head to stare at his husband, blank white eyes blinking comedically at him. “What?”

“Like, adoption,” Skeppy said. “Or fostering? I don’t know, I just want a kid.”

Bad opened his mouth, then shut it, letting his head fall back on the pillow to stare at the ceiling. “Ok.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Skeppy suddenly a fan of the idea of settling in. He had a cafe job, and a platonic husband, and the concept of living in a tiny apartment somewhere was exactly what he wanted, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listened to planetary go by mcr on repeat while writing this

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
